What We Got

I hate hurting people. Out of every single concept I hate, hurting people is the greatest. Whether it be my hatred toward people who hurt people or my own hatred for hurting people, I hate it. Beyond belief.

But sometimes hurting people is necessary -- and I'm not talking about that "she/he deserved it" shit, that's fuckin' stupid -- no one, I don't give a shit how fuckin' terrible they treat anyone else, deserves to be hurt -- I'm talking about the times when you have to say something to help someone, but you know it's going to hurt them. I hate it. Even with the best intentions, your words are going to be taken in the worst way possible, and I hate it.

Did I mention I hate it?

I did that today. Once. The other time I was just being a sick, twisted person, which makes it even worse. I didn't need to hurt Taylor, I just did it because I was mad, and I'm sorry about that -- I'm trying to fix that; I don't want to strike out in anger anymore. Ever.

I had to hurt Logan today, though, and, unfortunately, I think that's going to be the first in a series of wounds, and I deeply regret every one I'm going to be forced to cut.

But that's life, I guess. You're gonna have to do shit you don't want to do, but you have to, and there's nothing you can do to stop it, so you might as well just roll with it and do the best you can.

Some people say "Shit happens." I don't know how I like that phrase. I guess it's true, but it's kind of pessimistic. I mean, it basically says, "Bad stuff is going to happen to you, so deal with it." I have another phrase I like to say, and I think it's a bit more optimistic:

Life happens. Sometimes life happens good; sometimes life happens bad, but life happens, and you're never gonna stop it. I figure as long as you're still kicking, you're probably winning, and the best you can ever do is hold onto what you have, whatever's important to you. Whether it's your friends, your family, or just your ideals pulling you through: whatever it is, it's probably good enough to live for, and trying to find anything else bigger or more important is just gonna end with you staring at the sky wondering.

I'd rather be happy than informed any day, and if someday some guy figures out the meaning of life when I'm sitting around, chilling with my friends in our apartment, living it up, I can go without knowing until we're done, and, hell, if the only way I can learn is if I leave my friends at that very second and listen to him explain it, I'd pass.

Because my friends are what I got, and I wouldn't give them up for anything. Not certainty of God, not the meaning of life, not endless talent, money, or women. Nothing.

And I'm not saying my friends are all I got. I got a bunch of great stuff, like my family, my ideals, my brains, my ideas, everything, and they're all what I live for.

See, the problem comes when life happens bad, and those things you love are taken away from you, but I figure when that happens you only have one option: grab onto whatever you can take with you and run like hell, and if you can't do that, and you're left with nothin', you've always got yourself and a whole slew of memories and experiences to help you find something new.

Not that that'll happen, most likely, because life's usually good enough, and even when it isn't, you can pretty much deal with it and keep what you have easily enough.

I guess this is just to everyone who's been dealing with a lot lately, because I know most of us have and probably will continue for a while at least. No matter how much we lose, we usually still have something somewhere we just haven't looked.

And if you look everywhere and still can't find shit, you can always join the circus.

I hear the touring's great this time of year.

A Writer's Heart

Partly because I didn't want that depressing post being my first anymore, partly because it's one of my Kind of Goals to write more (blogs, journals, essays, books, etc.), partly because I'm procrastinating, and partly because I'm just inspired, today is another day to update the blog.

Certain people have been harassing me about not updating my blog constantly, as they seem to enjoy, so I will respond to their comments in brief now:

Firstly, fuck off -- I do what I want.

Secondly, I prefer to not update my blog unless I have something fairly significant to say. I despise pointless writing almost as much as I despise complaining, and I refuse to produce it myself unless under gunpoint, which hasn't happened as of late. The next time it does, though, you can feel assured that there will be a flood of meaningless dribble cascading its way onto the Internet. Until then, I shall stand firm.

That is not to say that I necessarily dislike people who write without purpose. While it may be true that I don't quite appreciate their efforts, no one should, by any means, assume that I dislike their efforts, because any writing, no matter how inconsequential, is a subtle portal into the writer's thoughts and feelings; therefore, it holds significance.

I suppose I just contradicted myself, now didn't I?

Well, whatever -- you know what I mean, and that's really the whole purpose of writing, isn't it?

I mean, of course grammar and punctuation and spelling and creativity and eloquence are nice, and all are important in their own way, but the purpose, the real purpose of writing, is to communicate what you mean. And I just love that. So much work, so much dedication and time can be put into one piece of writing only a few sentences long all to instill within you the precise message the author is attempting to impart.

Which I suppose takes me in a circle back to why the hell do people write meaningless dribble? Not that I'm saying the people who have been harassing me are writing meaningless dribble -- they just have a lot more to say than I do, but I have seen people whose entire lives are completely based off nothing. They have no motivations behind their actions, no drives which pull them through the day, nothing. I can't comprehend how they function, really.

But I already said I was leaving that topic, and I am.

I have realized that I want to be a writer. I love language: writing, singing, speaking, poetry, books, everything (except newspapers), I love language, and I think... that it has become my passion.

I think I've realized that I don't love computers as much as I thought I did. Don't get me wrong, I still love computers, but I don't think I value the connections between circuits as much as I value the connections between people. I don't think I love math or science close to as much as I love English, and I think that I'm going to change my life plans.

I want to be an author.

I want to write books, screenplays, blogs, everything. I love writing, and I want to live off it, but I don't think I can. It's almost impossible to live as an author, because unless, by some stroke of luck, I become famous, I will have zero dollars in the bank account 23/7 (that was not a typo), and unfortunately, I want to eat and maybe even start a family someday.

I don't want to be an author because there is almost no way I can make it, and I am not, and never will be, egotistical enough to believe I can in a world full of the amazing creators we have.

But yet, it is what I need. It's what I long for.

I have a writer's heart. Creativity is my mother and structure, my father; logic, my brother and care, my sister. God placed freedom in my soul and gave me his will to create and share, and all I want is to serve him.

Yet I'm blinded by dark clouds in my future.

It's very upsetting, you see?

But I'll figure it out. I think I'll attempt to go to MSU instead of Kettering. More opportunities in my passions, you see. So unless Princeton, Stanford, or MIT accepts me, I'm set for future plans.

But now I have a question for all you thinkers and writers:

What is your heart made of? Who do you want to be? I look forward to reading responses.

And for everyone who doesn't have a blog and wants to comment, don't worry! You don't need one! Just create a google account (or use the one you already have, you tech-savvy genius) --it's easy, free, and doesn't send you shitloads of spam-- and comment away.

This Is Fear.

Imagine a 200,000 pound press. In case you don't know what that is, imagine a giant robot that can exert 200,000 pounds of force with little difficulty. Now imagine that robot bringing down a brushed steel hammer two feet in diameter down on your heart.

That's pretty close to how I'm feeling right about now.

Why?

Because I realized today exactly how much shit I have to get done within the year, and I don't think I can make it.

On top of that, one of my greatest dreams was shattered when I found out I got a B+ in choir, and because of that, I don't think it will even be possible for me to get into Princeton, Stanford, or MIT. I'm afraid for my life because everything I thought I wanted to do I don't want to do any more. Everything I thought I could count on, I can't count on any more. I'm scared to death of my future, and I don't want to go on with it.

I never thought that I would be afraid, because I've never feared the unknown. Everyone is always talking about how they're so afraid of "leaving behind everything they've ever known," but that never bothered me. I love learning new concepts, I love figuring out the unknown, but what I never realized was that there's something you leave behind nobody ever mentions.

And that's what I love.

My friends, my family, my teachers, my classmates, my home. I love them. I don't hold some ridiculous fear for some imaginary power that will crush me in the future; I just don't want to let go of what I love, because that's all here, in Leslie, Michigan, my least favourite place in the world.

Everything is here.

But everything is changing. Everything has to change. Suddenly, I'm feeling myself change. My drive, what I once held as my indomitable will, is slipping away like sand as I try to hold onto it while chasing after my love.

My views, my perspectives on life: they're all going askew. I can hardly define them any more.

I don't even think I want to be an engineer any more. I want to be an actor or an author or a musician.

But that's never going to happen.

I want to pursue my dreams, but I'll never reach them, because I'm not good enough. I'm good, but I'm not good enough.

That's how it always is in the world. And I hate it

I hate it. I hate what's happening to me. I hate the world we live in. I hate this town. I hate this time. I hate this road I walk down.

Because I'm lost: I don't know where I'm going.

And I'm confused: I don't know who I am.

And I'm alone: I don't know who will be there tomorrow.

And I'm afraid.

So afraid.

Kind of Goals

New Years Day is coming, a day of partying and resolutions that are forgotten within the first few weeks of the year.  I've never liked New Years Resolutions for that exact reason.  Nobody keeps their promises beyond the first few weeks because it's near impossible to remember something that long.

This is why I've decided to make some pre-New Years Goals:  Goals to be completed before New Years Day arrives, or at least that's the plan.

I have this theory about goals.  Goals are incredibly hard to achieve by nature, because once a person establishes a goal, reaching that goal becomes a chore, and except for those few exceptionally motivated people in the world, no one wants to complete something they have to do.  So this is why, instead of goals, I'm establishing some Kind of Goals for myself.  With Kind of Goals, a person doesn't have to complete them, they just have to work toward completing them, and they will have succeeded in their Kind of Goals.

This Years Kind of Goals (to be completed before December 31st, 11:59 p.m.):

• Get everything that I need to do done by my dentist appointment (sometime Dec 28).  That means a lot of writing in the next couple days.
  
• Cut my showers down to 15 minutes each.  At least.
• Exercise every day.  Every day.
  
• Drink at least 47 oz. of water a day.  Water is good.
  
• Update my blog at least one more time before the end of the year.
• Start taking my medications regularly.  The doctor prescribed them for a reason.
• Establish an actual sleeping schedule.  This is, of course, to be completed after the first goal I stated, because I'm going to be doing a lot of work.
• As soon as I wake up, get out of bed.  I don't care if I have to throw myself off the side of my bed (onto another bed on the floor, of course.  I don't want to kill myself), I want to be out.
• Decide whether to move my computer to my room or not.
• Clean my room.
• Clean my bathroom.
• Clean my stuff around the kitchen.
• Write that list of 500 things about myself.
• Shorten my "in between" times.  And by that I mean the times in between activities;  for example, when I'm playing a game and I say, "Hey!  I should do some homework!"  I actually do my homework, instead of putting it off for three and a quarter hours, and hating myself the entire time.
• Make at least five people smile a day.
  
• Never lie to anyone again ever.

All of these, I shall work on.  If I don't complete them, then at least I tried, but if I do, I have accomplished something.

Oh, and as for my personal life, I met this girl.  Her name is Kayla Martin.  Well, I guess I already knew her, but I think something good might just come from it.  I'll keep you posted.

One of Those Days

Have you ever had one of those days... where at the end you just feel like the world could just end right there and you would be perfectly fine with it because everything is perfect? Everything in life is working out and everything is turning out perfect. Love is there in every friend and every family member. That girl you've been flirting with gave that smile that told you I... I think I love you, and you sent one right back. You didn't have any homework, and you didn't feel like staying up just because you're afraid of what might happen when you fall asleep. You feel safe, content, and happy. You casually toss around the idea of killing yourself right then and there because it's so perfect and today would be the perfect day to die, but you would never do that because you never want today to end. Ever have one of those days?

Today was not one of those days. I went to sleep last night at 5:30 p.m. hoping to be rested and happy today, but after a restless night where I spent brief periods in a daze some might classify as sleep between hours of lying, staring blankly at my ceiling, I woke up at 9:20 a.m. to my ex-girlfriend (bless her soul) calling me telling me I needed to get to school because I was an hour and five minutes late to my choir exam and if I miss it I'll fail the entire class because somehow, despite how sickly restless my sleep was, I still managed to sleep through my alarm for a full half hour.

So I run into school. I didn't shower. I didn't use my acne medicine. I didn't eat. I didn't brush my teeth. I grabbed pants, t-shirt, keys, wallet, shoes, and ran out the door. I get to school, Sco is mad but doesn't show it, I completely bomb my exam because I'm still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

I walk into calculus to do the same work we've been doing for the past two weeks, and I don't have my backpack or book or paper or pencils, so I can't do anything else.

I get the second biggest headache I've had in my life (the worst was yesterday), and I can't work on the cemetery drawing I'm getting paid for because of it.

I get home to find out I have two A-'s in different classes I wasn't even worried about.

I haven't had an appetite in two days. I didn't eat for over 36 hours, and I didn't notice. I can't sleep any more. I almost had a panic attack driving to Chelsea today.

I'm starting to fear for my health and sanity. I don't think I'm going to be able to hold up my different acts for much longer.

My plans for the future have been shattered and I'm more confused than I ever have been about my life and what I want to do and what I'm going to be.

Yesterday, for the eighth time in a row within six months, I found out the girl I had fallen for has a boyfriend.

Have you ever had one of those days... where at the end you look back and wonder why you even go through it any more? Where you wonder if the constant misery you live in is even worth the people you stay alive for? You look in the mirror at the end of the day like you do every day and ask yourself, "Where did that smile go? I haven't seen it in so long." And then you realize you haven't actually been happy in three years and you don't want to keep living if you don't find something, anything, that would make you a little happier, but no matter how hard you look, no matter how much you wish, no matter how you hope, every single opportunity is smashed back in your face so hard your nose and mouth and eyes are bleeding and you can't see, you can't speak, so you just lie back down in the hole you've dug inside your soul that's the only place you feel safe because you're away from everybody and everything and no one can hurt you there until you feel like you have just enough strength to pull yourself out again, but immediately upon exiting, some sick God slams his foot back into your face and stomps on your hands as you try to pull yourself up, putting you through the same torture yet again. And you have no idea why you keep pulling yourself up because you know that every time you open your eyes, someone's going to be there, and they're going to hurt you more than ever before, and it's never worth it. Nothing is ever worth it.

Ever have one of those days?

Today was one of those days.

And so was yesterday.
And the day before yesterday.
And so was three days ago.
And so was four days ago.
And so was five days ago.
And so was six days ago.
And so was a week ago.
And so was two weeks ago.
And so was three weeks ago.
And so was four weeks ago.
And so was a month ago.
And every month before that.

And I don't know what I'm going to do if tomorrow is another one of those days.

I Am Man

So I wrote this paper for AP English....  And I have to say, it's pretty fuckin' awesome.

I Am Man.

I am man. I eat meat. Meaty meat meat. The more meaty the food, the better; In fact, I have been known on occasion to proclaim my wife's cooking meattastic if it is so deserving. I drink protein shakes and work out on a daily basis. Cardio comes every day I have time and weight training alternates between days. I belch when I want to, and I break wind on the same schedule. I do what I like and don't give a rat's hindquarters who's offended by it.

I am man. I make the rules of my house so all will obey. Well, except for me, because after a long, hard day's work, I am tired and do not wish to remove my shoes before stepping onto the rug. I have that right, because I am man. I am the owner of my household, and I rule it with an iron fist – at least until my wife comes home. And when she does, I command her to make me my supper, which she does, because I am man, and because I took out the trash this morning and vacuumed the house like she asked me to.

I am man. I spend my Saturdays with my fellow men in our respective man-lairs participating in manly activities. Like knitting!... Um, I mean like watching sports and playing poker. In my man-lair I keep a chest full of my tools, a fridge full of my beers, and a box full of back scratchers for my hairy back, because real men don't shave backs, fucking metrosexual freaks. Women aren't allowed unless they bring gifts of food and leave immediately after a hearty thank you, which consists of big hug and kiss on the cheek. What? Every man must know how to please his woman.

I am man. Man, as a species, has conquered this earth and enslaved nearly every animal on it for our bidding. I, as an individual man, have conquered the television set and the Sunday through Saturday night prime-time lineup. I could recite you the NFL history for the past twenty years or recount to you the past 600 episodes of any of the various versions of CSI in agonizing detail. I don't see how could you expect me to remember my anniversary with all that knowledge in there. No, it's not that it's not important, of course it's important. I love my wife. She makes me sandwiches and they're delicious. It's just that – well, it's impossible to comprehend the complexities of the male human mind; I can't explain, I apologize, but that is the nature of man. And if you can't understand that, then I'm sorry, but I don't think you can understand what being a man is all about. But anyway.

I am man. And a man I will be till the end of my life. This I am proud to say. And nothing, no object, nor group, nor force of nature, nor god is greater than man! Except woman.

That's it for today.  It's already 4:21.  I just finished writing 15 pages of notes/papers (not exaggerating) and I have about two more to go until I can hit the sack.  Or just go to school.  Actually, I'll probably just go for that one.

Misunderstanding

Alright, so... it's about 11:50, I have over two hours of homework left, plus reading, and I'm procrastinating and writing the first blog I've written in over a month.

This week is show week. I've only finished one college application (so far, I plan on doing more later tonight). I'm single. I'm starting to question more and more what I want to do with my life.

I'm in a bit of turmoil.

I have no clue what's happening around me. Shit keeps flying around me everywhere, and I have no idea what's happening because I'm euphoric on lack of sleep. There have been about 200 lost loves, 400 new loves, 6,000 broken bones, 800 lost sheep, and I couldn't give a more insignificant fuck, because I have my own problems.

But people don't seem to understand that, so they drag me into their pathetic quarrels and turn me into the center of their misguided rages, and I don't react because their accusations have no basis, so they turn around and hurl even more insults and paranoia at me. Well fuck you, I'm still stuck here wondering why I can't stop seeing the fireworks going off around my head.

I'm sick of the drama and I'm sick of how that's all that matters to people recently. If you're going to start shit, leave me out of it, please. That's all I ask. And if I supposedly "did something" that (hell, I don't even know why you get angry at shit) "disrespected you" or whatthefuckever, grow up and get over it, because even if I did do what you say I did -- and I guarantee that I didn't -- it doesn't matter a tenth as much as you're making it out to.

This isn't just to one person, this is to everyone who's making drama.

Enough anger though.

On a more personal note, I think I've finally gotten over my whole "seeking a new girl" thing. That's been really bothering me lately.

If you haven't noticed, I've been sort of... out of it lately, and it's because I've been spending a lot of time looking for a girl. Not just any girl, a perfect girl. A perfect girl to smile and laugh with at our stupid friends who just cracked some sarcastic joke about some reference they made that nobody but us would undersand. A perfect girl to yawn in a movie theatre next to 'cause the movie sucks ass, but I can't help but love every moment of it because I'm sitting next to the greatest girl in not only the whole theatre, but quite possibly the entire world. A perfect girl to fight with about some stupid word I said a month ago and even though I totally know I'm right, as soon as she gives me that look immediately concede because she's been right all along. A perfect girl to wrap in my arms on the coldest nights when we're alone sitting in front of her fireplace talking about the probability of spontaneous combustion in marshmallows or whatever random thoughts came into our heads because it wouldn't matter what we were saying as long as we could hear each others voices on the other side of our touch.

Yeah, you know the one.

But I think I'm getting out of that, and by that I don't mean I'm looking less but rather, that I'm getting less absorbed in my search. I'm trying out another rule to add to my "Rules to Live by," and that is "4. Never let any one thing consume all of your attention," no matter what that thing is, good or bad.

I've also started meditating nightly (well, it's not formal "mediating" because I'm thinking about stuff, it it's close enough), which I hope will help me sort some things out that are going on in my life.

I've started doing one more thing too... but, I think I'll write a separate blog for some some time. It's really changed my life (if you read my twitter, you'd remember when I said that) -- not in a religious way or anything, just general improvement, you know.

*Sigh* But I suppose I should get back to my homework again.

Love and Peace, all.

-Lee Rumler